We were playing around in bed last night. No, not in the nasty way. He was a little buzzed, maybe he was even drunk, and he was being silly. He would roll, taking all the blankets with him. It was fun. I would try to take the blankets back from him, but he would roll and make it where I couldn’t even grab a corner!
We were having fun. And he finally let me have a corner, so I pulled and rolled with the blanket so that I could make sure that he didn’t take any more blankets than what he needed. But he tried rolling again, and since I had most of my weight holding the blanket down, he couldn’t go anywhere. So he came closer, and he pulled down my panties in a certain way…
I don’t know if I froze instantly, or if I started crying, or if I whimpered, but he asked me what was wrong. And I just started crying.
It was embarrassing that I had this reaction, so instantly to something so innocent. That I couldn’t be touched by my husband, because I was afraid. I was terrified and embarrassed.
I had an intense reaction to something innocent and fun. It made me so upset, it also upsets me that I can’t remember what I did before I started crying. He asked me again, what was wrong. And I told him I got scared. He held me, soothed me, stopped my tears. He knew what I was talking about, he knew what I was thinking about. And he held me until I fell asleep.
It’s irritating that one mistake in my past still effects me in the present. And here I am, thinking that I was over it. Obviously not.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about by now, which some people probably haven’t caught the drift, some have and they are holding their breath, maybe even thinking “surely not”, but it’s more common than most would like to admit. When I was younger, 17, I believe, my ex-boyfriend had his way with me. It’s still hard to admit to someone what it really is. I find myself pausing, even though it’s just a word, and it’s easy to type, it’s hard. Very few people know. And I’ve hinted and suggested, but I don’t even know that my family really knows. My best friend knows…But I’m not sure she’s my best friend anymore, we’ve both moved on in our lives and she’s got new best friends. My husband knows. And I think that my counselor knows.
I remember it clearly. The way he talked me into staying after school with him. Coming to our old spot, to “talk”. We sat there. Talking. But there were other things on his mind. And he knew all the right buttons to press, it’s called taking advantage. I was dating someone else, my future husband (though, at the time, I didn’t know we would get married). He didn’t care. He said it would be ok. He knew how to get me to say ok. And as I sat there, I knew this wasn’t what I wanted to do. I didn’t move, I made it difficult, or at least I tried. It should have told him that I didn’t want to do this. But he continued to undress me. Before he started, I said no. And when he started, I said stop, no, and please stop. I said our code word. But he kept on.
It didn’t take him long to finish. I laid there, stunned, numb, and scared. He cleaned me up, dressed me, and walked me to my bus. I didn’t say anything to him, he didn’t say anything to me. And when I got on the bus, my mind was reeling. I didn’t say anything to my boyfriend, but he knew that something was wrong. When I got home, I shut my door, I called my best friend. And I told her, “I think he raped me.” She was shocked, and “what do you mean you think?” We didn’t talk about it anymore. I told my boyfriend, but no one else.
I could have ruined him. He wants to be a teacher. He could be in jail right now. He could no have a future. But I kept my mouth shut.
He tried it again that next spring. Again, he talked me into meeting with him alone. This time in his truck. And it was nice at first, we were listening to music and talking. The next thing I know, he’s on top of me, hands around my throat. I don’t know what I did to get away, but I did. And I ran. I ran into the school and I found my best friend and my boyfriend. He chased me in there. But, by the time he reached me, I had already said everything I needed to. They protected me, they shielded me from him. And all he could do was walk away.
To this day, he can’t admit it. He said that that’s not what it was. He said that he did it for both of us and that we both enjoyed it. He said, “I’m sorry you think that’s what it was, but it wasn’t.” But it was. The emotional trauma that followed, I know what it was. I know what it was because when I tried to have relations with my boyfriend (again, my boyfriend at the time is my current Hubby) I was triggered. I had a panic attack, and I couldn’t be touched for 30 minutes. Thirty minutes I laid there crying. And I know that he wanted to comfort me, but I couldn’t bare to be touched. Even now, five years later, I still have problems with it. It doesn’t happen often I just think that it’s sad that something so little can trigger it. The emotional response so intense that Hubby knows instantly what I’m thinking about. It makes me mad, it hurts my feelings, and it scares me that it still haunts me.
I was raped. By my exboyfriend. Who doesn’t consider it to be rape, because “we both enjoyed it” and he’s “sorry that [I] think that’s what it was.”